When the waitress asked for my ID, Tim looked down to try to hide a smirk. So much for impressing my dream date. I stared at her, feeling my face flush.

“You have to be kidding.”

She glanced at Tim before she pointed at the small print on the menu. “I’m sorry sweetie, but it’s the law.”

Her condescending tone was reinforced by her gray roots. She obviously didn’t remember what it was like to want to impress a guy. I swallowed and reached for my purse. As I took out my driver’s license, I almost wished I had accepted Jenny’s offer.

“You’ll need a fake id when you get to college. Everyone has one.”

But I was scared to break the law. I had even given her a lecture about it. Lying about your age was just as bad as underage drinking and I wasn’t going to suffer the penalty for either crime. She’d laugh if she could see me now.

So I handed my license to the waitress without looking at Tim. I looked around the room while she took her time examining it. Fishing nets with shells caught in them hung on the rough plank walls. The surfboard shaped tables were finished in bright colors under thick resin. Everyone at the dorm talked about this place and I had been so excited when Tim brought me here.

But now he thought I was a baby so he’d never ask me out again and I wasn’t even going to enjoy the food.

I’m sure Tim’s smile was supposed to be sympathetic, but I didn’t want sympathy.

“Let’s have some nachos while we wait for our dinner.”

I fixed my eyes on the mound of chips and cheese while he asked the usual questions about how I liked college life so far and what I thought I’d major in. I wanted to talk about his amazing guitar playing, but I couldn’t get out more than a two syllable answer, never mind ask him a question. We both looked up with relief when the waitress came back with our order.

She put Tim’s plate on the table with a flourish. “One rare hamburger with all the fixings.”

She plopped mine in front of me. “Here you go sweetie. One hamburger, well done. Enjoy.”

As she walked away, Tim laughed. “Can you believe they actually have a law saying you have to be eighteen to order your meat rare?” He reached across the table and took my hand. His gorgeous brown eyes looked into mine just as I’d dreamed they would. “I’m glad you don’t have a fake id. Why don’t we come back here to celebrate your birthday? You can have the biggest, rarest hamburger in history.”

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Young love, and the desperate desire to be older are well captured here, but the law itself must be fairly rare??? Not one to beef about this, but give me well-done. I for one don't to risk having my burger eat my salad for me and then run away from the table...